


Taylor Calvert's Stress Relief

by RavensDagger



Category: Parahumans Series - Wildbow
Genre: BDSM, Confessional Sex, F/F, Mommy Issues, Punishment, Spanking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-02
Updated: 2019-04-02
Packaged: 2020-01-01 06:58:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18330938
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RavensDagger/pseuds/RavensDagger





	Taylor Calvert's Stress Relief

She couldn’t sleep.

There was a million and one thing going through her mind, the sort of stuff that would make a anyone sweat.

She shifted, her mattress sighing as she moved her weight around from one side to the next. There were so many things going on all at once, and that was on top of her usual work keeping Taylor healthy and fit. The girl was like a daughter. No, she was worse. Her real daughter was a little precocious, but she was a sweetheart all the same. Taylor... was a hot headed mess hidden under a veneer of civility and cunning.

Then there was the mass with Bakuda and the Knights Errant, Taylor’s other little project. Isabelle flopped onto her back and stared up at the ceiling, her eyes following the gentle motions of her ceiling fan.

A soft chime rang across the room and Isabelle felt herself tensing up. Whatever nearness to sleep she had was gone in a blink. That was the tone her phone made when Taylor texted her.

Rolling over, she ran a hand across her end table under she caught her phone, yanked it off the charger and brought it to her face.

T-C: _Are you awake?_

Isabelle blinked. That wasn’t one of their codes. So, it was probably a genuine question.

I: _Im up._

She sat on the side of her bed, her oversized Bad Canary t-shirt twisting around her torso until she pulled it back straight.

Her phone buzzed in her hand.

T-C: _Can I come over?_

Isabelle smiled. The girl was only just sixteen. She was still so damned young, and yet she still didn’t text like someone her age. It said a lot about Taylor’s character.

I: _Sure._

T-C: _I’m at your door._

Her eyebrows rose. Taylor must have been more desperate than she thought.

With a hiss as her feet touched the cold floor, Isabelle stood up and stretched a little before exiting her room. She straightened her shirt as she walked down the corridor, mindful to keep her steps quiet. She didn’t want to wake up Liz up.

There was a shadow standing behind the wavy glass of her front door. She paused, taking in the nervous shifting and the vague impression of crossed arms.

She undid the latch and opened up. In that same moment, Taylor’s arms dropped to her side and she stiffened. She could have put a trained soldier to shame with the straightness of her back. “Isabelle,” she said.

“Hello, Taylor,” Isabelle said. She kept her eyes on her charge, a tiny smile tugging at her lips when she saw Taylor glance down then back up. “You said you wanted to see me? Come in, come in. Oh, but try not to be too noisy. Elizabeth’s sleeping.”

Taylor nodded with her usual grace and stepped in, hands straying down to straighten out the neat jacket she wore in a way that made the purse hanging by her hip sway slightly. “Thank for taking me in so late,” she said.

“No problem,” Isabelle said. She leaned against the counter dividing her entranceway and her living room. “What can I do for you?”

The girl looked at her right in the eye, fearless as ever. “I’m stressed,” Taylor said.

Isabelle nodded, then she perked up one eyebrow. “And what will you do about that? Did you want to talk? I can warm up some tea.”

There was a hint of a blush. Just a tiny shade of pink on Taylor’s cheeks that would have gone unnoticed were she anyone else. But it was there, and Isabelle felt her excitement growing just seeing it. “I need something a little more carnal then that.”

Isabelle shrugged as if it was no concern of hers. “You do know that it’s a school night? Liz has classes in the morning.”

Taylor bit her bottom lip then, realising what she was doing, replaced her poker mask. “I’ve been under a lot of stress,” she repeated with emphasis.

“So much that you can’t even ask nicely?” Isabelle pushed herself off the wall and walked up to Taylor. A year ago she was taller, but now the girl had a few inches on her. “Are you stressed enough to ask really nicely?”

There was a fire in those brown eyes and Isabelle loved it. “Please,” she demanded.

Isabelle snorted.

She saw the corner of Taylor’s jaw firming up and her eyes fell. “Please?” this time the voice was softer, meeker.

“I don’t know. Couldn’t you get rid of your stress yourself? You’re a big girl aren’t you?”

“Dammit, Isabelle,” Taylor whispered, and if she wasn’t so close she probably wouldn’t have caught it.

Isabelle stepped as if to walk past Taylor, only to turn around and deliver a firm slap to the young woman’s ass, one that didn't end but instead pressed on, transforming into an appreciative and firm squeeze. Taylor gasped, eyes going wide for just a moment before her face was wiped of emotions. “Go get ready,” Isabelle whispered, her lips brushing her charge's ear.

She watched Taylor saunter off towards the bathroom for a while then walked over to one of the rooms that had really sold the apartment for her. The landlord had claimed it was an extra bedroom, but with only her and Elizabeth and two other available rooms, she had turned it into something of a gym. It was a matter of moment to push aside some of the equipment and fold up the rest. She had to pull out a small stool to unhook the punching bag which she rolled over to one corner. In the end, she had a decent little room with a padded floor and only a lingering smell of sweat covered by air freshener.

Nodding to herself, Isabelle opened a cupboard and searched for a moment. Under a few clean towels she found a box with a dial-lock on it. A few quick spins later and she pulled out a long, thin strap from within.

Isabelle had always been more of a chain person, but the straps were handier when you didn’t want to make quite as much noise. She had just finished placing the straps through the hooks in the ceiling when the door opened.

Turning, Isabelle came face to face with a nearly naked Taylor Calvert.

Nearly, because the young woman was wearing a pair of pink, open-toed heels so tall and slim that the point could have been used to gouge a man’s eye out. She let her gaze linger on the heels, then she followed up along toned calves and muscled thighs until she came to the towel that hid the more interesting parts from view. “Aren’t you a little overdressed?” she asked.

Taylor let the towel drop.

“That’s better.”

Taylor wasn’t--and would never be--a busty woman. She was rather small and thin, a swimmer’s build that showed off lithe muscles rather than flashy curves. Isabelle liked it all the same. “I brought something,” Taylor said. She gestured with an open palm, holding out a thin strap of something leathery for Isabelle to take. It glittered a little in the room’s light.

She swiped it out of Taylor’s hand and held it up to the light. “A collar?” she asked. “A _pink_ collar?”

Taylor’s silence was her only answer. The girl was looking away, a thin rosey dusting on her cheeks. Isabelle felt a grin crawling on her face. “Are you going to do things dressed like that?” Taylor asked.

Isabelle looked down at the shirt she was wearing. It wasn’t exactly the hottest thing she owned, but now that Taylor had made a fuss about it, there was no way she was going to change. At least her panties were a little on the risqué side. “And what if I will? Who’s going to stop me?”

Taylor swallowed. The game had started. Isabelle pulled her hair back and tied it in a quick and sloppy ponytail, her attention never leaving her charge’s features.

She took one long step towards Taylor, towards her boss, the girl that had faced down a dragon and laughed, who spat in the face of the PRT, whose dreams that she worked on every day included the armed take-over of an entire city. She grabbed Taylor by the wrist and yanked her towards the ropes dangling from the ceiling.

Taylor almost tripped, her heels clicking on the ground as Isabelle took away her balance. She didn’t let her find her footing. A leg came up, bare skin brushing against the inside of Taylor’s thigh while her free hand came around and pinched the younger woman’s chin.

“This is for me,” Isabelle said as she pressed her lips over Taylors. Her eyes were wide, filled with a sort of animalistic fear as Isabelle robbed her of her breath and forced her tongue between the girl’s lips.

Then it was over and Isabelle was buckling the collar around Taylor’s neck, pulling it until it was just tight enough to be _snug_ without stopping her from breathing.

With a quick twirl she’d learned in an old dojo, Isabelle moved behind Taylor, grabbed both hands, and yanked them up.

She had Taylor on the backfoot and kept her there as she locked the cuffs around both wrists. With another yank, she brought the ropes higher until Taylor’s heels were barely making contact with the floor, forcing her back to arch and her butt to stick out on display.

Any movement would have the younger woman pulling at the muscles of her shoulders, and with the collar making her breathing difficult, she was entirely at Isabelle’s mercy.

“So, where will I start?” Isabelle asked aloud as she walked around Taylor. Her socks swished on the mats with a rhythmic scratch. She eyed the set-up critically, looking to see if it was too much, if Taylor was in any real discomfort. Then she gently placed a hand on Taylor’s ass, right where she’d slapped it a few minutes ago. There was just a hint of red on the cheek. “Did that hurt?” she asked, her voice as soft as she could make it.

“No,” Taylor said.

Isabelle brought her hand back, lightning quick, and smacked over the same place. Taylor winced as she tried to take a step forwards and pulled at her restraints. “Did I give you permission to talk?” she asked.

Taylor shook her head.

She reached up and brushed the hair away from Taylor’s ear. “Why are you here?” she asked.

Taylor didn’t speak, she only stared ahead with a determined expression and took in quick, shallow breaths.

“Speak!” Isabelle hissed before delivering another smack on Taylor’s ass.

“I, I did bad things,” Taylor said. She didn’t whisper it. Her voice wasn’t overly loud either, but it carried.

Isabelle slapped Taylor over the same spot, then pressed her hand into the flesh of her rump as she leaned into her. “Didn’t I tell you to be quiet? What would you do if my dear Elizabeth woke up? What would you do if she walked in here and saw you like this? On display like some sort of whore?”

Taylor tried to shrink in on herself, hard to do when your arms are tied behind your back. “I’m sorry.”

Another slap, this one far weaker. “I’m sorry what?”

“Ma’am?” Taylor asked.

Isabelle’s hand was getting a little sore as she delivered another spank. “I’m not your boss, I’m just the one spanking you.”

Taylor actually winced as Isabelle delivered another slap. She decided to make them a little lighter. Her one cheek was flaming red already. “Sir?”

“If I was a sir, I wouldn’t just be playing with your cheeks, now would I?” Isabelle asked as she pinched over the reddest spot.

“W-what do you want me to call you?”

Isabelle grinned. “”How about mommy?” She adored the bug-eyed expression that crossed Taylor’s face before she could control herself. “Isn’t that what you’re here for?” she whispered. “To confess all of the naughty things you did to your mommy?” Isabelle hugged Taylor from behind, her shirt riding up until her belly pressed against Taylor’s flaming backside.

“Yes... mommy?” Taylor said.

That was good enough for Isabelle. She moved back and opened a cupboard that was just out of Taylor’s line of sight. She had an old toy that might please the young woman. Reaching back and into the shadows behind gym equipment, her hand wrapped around a cloth-wrapped handle.

The escrima stick was well-worn and had a few notches along its wooden shaft. It had been a parting gift from an old dojo. She didn’t think they meant for her to use it this way, though. She weighted the stick in both hands, then, with a swing that had the air singing, brought it around in a smack that landed on Taylor’s untouched behind.

She yelped, feet shifting in an odd sort of dance while her rear jiggled in a most pleasant fashion. “Now, Taylor my sweet, why don’t you tell mommy about all the bad, bad things you’ve done?”

“Yes, yes... mommy,” Taylor said.

Isabelle walked around Taylor until she was standing in front of her. She rolled the stick between her forefinger and thumb. “Talk,” she said.

“I don’t know where to start,” Taylor said. She sounded lost, and her eyes didn’t seem to want to focus on Isabelle’s.

She reached out with her free hand and pinched Taylor’s nipple. Taylor hid a wince and glanced down for just a second. Then Isabelle pressed the end of the stick against Taylor’s sternum and started to push.

Taylor’s hiss turned into a moan as Isabelle twisted the distended breast. “Talk,” she ordered.

“I, I’ve been tricking the Knights,” Taylor said in a rush. “Not, not lying. Never lying, because there are too many powers that can see through lies. No, but I’ve been tricking them, just like dad taught me to,” she said in one breath.

Isabelle shook her head slowly from side to side. It wasn’t anything she didn’t know, but it was, obviously, something weighing on Taylor’s soul. “How awful,” she whispered. “And what else?”

“L-lung. I, I killed him. I made him allergic. Got a mole to change his menu. Made sure he died of anaphylactic shock,” Taylor said. Isabelle started twisting the other way and pushing more. Her heeled feet started to scramble for purchase. “And, and I made sure the Epi-pens near the cells were expired. Just in case,” she said.

“Disgusting,” Isabelle said.

“His men. I, I killed them. Just sent my pawns at them. Kept the parts to fix the pawns that broke against Lung. Like, like they were just toys.”

Isabelle let go of Taylor’s nipple and swung the stick around. It hit with a dull crack against the upper part of her thigh, not hard enough to move Taylor, but it still made her try to take a half-step forwards. The tip of her heels dug into the mat for a moment. “How long have I known you, sweetheart? I practically raised you. And then you go out and do things that are so, so horrible,” Isabelle said. It was a stretch to make herself sound so disappointed without sounding campy.

“I’m sorry,” Taylor said.

“What was that?” Isabelle moved in, a hand tangling with Taylor’s short-cropped hair and yanking it back so that she was looking at her right in the eye.

“I said I’m sorry,” Taylor said.

Isabelle eyed her for a moment. The mask was still on, still hiding what she really felt. “You don’t look sorry,” she said. “Let’s see if we can fix that.”

Isabelle let go and moved to Taylor’s side. “How many?” she asked.

“How many what?”

“How many men did you kill?”

“Uh,” Taylor said.

The stack cracked against her butt. “How many?” Isabelle’s whisper was far more insistent.

“F-fourteen,” Taylor said.

“One,” Isabelle replied. She brought the stick up and around so that it landed dead in the centre of Taylor’s ass. “Two,” she said as she swung again.

By the time she reached ten, small welts were appearing, by twelve, Taylor was moaning with every smack, by the fourteenth, her back was arched and her mouth was wide open, gasping for air like a fish out of water.

“And Lung,” Isabelle said. She brought the stick around again, harder this time.

Taylor let out a squeak and Isabelle moved behind her to hide the sudden smile that the sound brought forth. It was so unlike her usual poise that she had a hard time keeping in the giggles.

“What do we say?” Isabelle asked.

“Thank you,” Taylor replied.

Isabelle grabbed a handful of Taylor’s ass and squeezed until it hurt. “Thank you what?”

“Thank you mommy.”

“Hmph.” Isabelle held the stick to one side as she pressed herself against Taylor’s back again. She tried to move away, to keep her sensitive backside off of Isabelle’s front, so she reached around, hand running against Taylor’s ribs, then down her toned stomach until it rested just below her navel. She tugged Taylor back and into her own chest in a sort of weird half-hug. “Do you know why I did that?” she whispered.

“T-to punish me,” Taylor stammered.

“Mmhmm,” Isabelle said. She let her breath tickle against the nape of Taylor’s neck. She ran her hand lower, past the little bump above Taylor’s hairless pussy until her middle and ring finger covered her charge’s most intimate regions.

When she brought her hand back it was wet and sticky. “What’s this?” she asked.

“What?” Taylor asked.

Isabelle stuffed her hand over Taylor’s nose and mouth, letting her have a good sniff. “What’s that?” she asked.

Taylor fidgetted, but didn’t answer, so Isabelle fell to one knee and slowly ran a hand up Taylor’s leg, starting by the ankle and stopping when she reached the crotch. All along the leg was a thin trail of Taylor’s juices.

“Did that turn you on?” she asked. “Did being punished make you feel good?” Isabelle didn’t wait for Taylor to reply. She stuck the escrima stick between her legs and let it poke out the front like some sort of wooden cock. Then she slowly, methodically brough the stick back before pushing it forwards again, the smooth varnish letting it glide easily along her folds.

Taylor made little whimpering noises in the back of her throat. By the time the shaft was getting noticeably wet Taylor’s legs were trembling.

She started moving it faster until she could tell Taylor was on the edge, then she stopped.

Taylor tried rocking back and forth, her hips bucking a little, but it was useless. She didn’t have the leverage to get herself off.

Isabelle lowered the stick and walked around to Taylor’s front. She kept her face neutral as she brought it up in front of Taylor. “You disgusting little bitch,” Isabelle hissed.

Taylor flinched back, eyes going wide.

“Lick it,” Isabelle ordered. She pushed the sodden staff towards Taylor’s mouth.

She just stared for a moment, shock being turn away by indignation. So Isabelle reached out and twisted her already sore nipple until Taylor gasped.

That’s all she wanted, for Taylor to open her mouth. She pushed the stick in lengthwise so that Taylor couldn’t shut her mouth. “Lick. It.”

Taylor’s tongue stuck out from under the stick and started moving as best it could, soaking up the juices she’d poured onto it. Tears were welling up in Taylor’s eyes.

“You know what that is? That’s your sin, your filth that’s pouring out of you. Doesn’t it feel good?” she asked.

Taylor tried to nod. She didn’t succeed, but Isabelle got the message. “Keep licking,” she ordered as she moved the stick about, making sure that Taylor cleaned it all the way.

She was not going to be putting that in the dishwasher.

When the shaft was as clean as it could be, Isabelle moved back around to Taylor’s rear and slid it up against her inner thigh, then she pressed it up against her still-sodden pussy and started rolling it one way and the next while moving it back and forth.

It didn’t take nearly as long for Taylor to reach the edge of orgasm, just a few moments of Isabelle teasing her with the stick and she was almost ready to burst.

She stopped. “That it, isn’t it. You just wanted to get off on that, huh. You’re so dirty it’s hard to even describe,” Isabelle said. “You’re a monster, aren’t you?”

Taylor nodded

“You’re disgusting, aren’t you?

More nodding.

“You don’t deserve anything nice, do you?”

This time, Taylor shook her head.

Isabelle smiled, then, fast as a whip, she jerked the stick back and brought it around to hit Taylor on the ass hard enough that the smack echoed in the room.

Taylor cried out, her legs gave out from under her and she fell forwards, only held back by the cuffs around her wrists.

Isabelle tossed the stick aside and grabbed Taylor, wrapping her up in a hug while one hand reached up and undid the knot holding the cuffs up.

Both of them fell to the mats in a heap, but Isabelle had seen the motion coming and was able to slow the fall down and move Taylor so that she landed on her lap.

“I-I’m s-so sorry,” Taylor said.

She looked at Isabelle and her face was a mess. Dirty sobs wracked her lithe form and she pressed herself against Isabelle, face against her t-shirt. She could feel the wet tears soaking into the material.

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, sweetie, it’s okay,” Isabelle said. She hugged Taylor and started rocking back and forth, stroking her hair and whispering gentle assurances.

“I’m so sorry, Mom, I’m sorry,” she continued to sob, but the sound had a thread of relief in it.

***

Isabelle was toying with the hem of her shirt while she waited for Taylor to step out of the bathroom. It was getting a little worn, which was annoying. Bad Canary was her favourite band, but they were getting popular and their merch was starting to rise in price. She wondered if Mr. Calvert would question her sending in an expense report for one T-shirt damaged on the line of duty?

The door to the bathroom opened and Taylor stepped out wearing sensible flats and a crisp business suit. Her hair was tidy and her eyes were bright with the underlying intelligence of a predator. It was only when she moved that Isabelle was able to see the evidence of her handiwork. Taylor was trying very hard to keep her hips from swaying in those tight pants of hers.

She walked past Isabelle on the way to the door, then paused. “Thank you,” she said.

Isabelle grinned. “No problem,” she replied.

With that, Taylor left, looking for all the world like a businesswoman out for lunch... at three AM.

“Mom?”

Isabelle spun to find Elizabeth standing in the corridor, eyes half lidded and dressed in a set of sky blue pyjamas. “Yes, love?” she asked.

“That was Taylor?”

“It was.”

There was something shrewd in her daughter’s eye. “Were you two arguing again?”

Isabelle felt her smile grow a little stiff. “Um, just a little.”

Her daughter sniffed the air, then made a face. “Uh-huh. I’m going back to bed.” She turned around, eyes rolling all the while. “G’ night.”

“Good night,” she called, feeling her cheeks flush for the first time that night. “Damn,” she whispered. “All that fun and I didn’t even get myself off.”

But then, that’s what long showers were for, she reasoned.

***

This is a side-story (whether or not its canon is up to you to decide) of Taylor Calvert. I hope you enjoy!

Mucho thanks to Chaotic Sky, who knows a suspicious amount about BDSM stuff.


End file.
